


Short Cuts

by cygnaut



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Battlelust, Consent Issues, F/M, Furiosa is a cis man, Gen, Genderswap, Gift Giving, Group Sex, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Max is a cis woman, Pregnant Sex, Rape, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4146384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cygnaut/pseuds/cygnaut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gathering up my shorter kinkmeme fills and tumblr prompts.</p><p>1. Safety Detour (Furiosa is not a fan of hospitals)<br/>2. Taking the Edge Off (awkward war rig orgy)<br/>3. Darker Mirrors (Furiosa/Max, genderswap, rape)<br/>4. Serviceable (Angharad/Max & Furiosa, pregnant sex, voyeurism)<br/>5. “I got you a present" (Max and Furiosa)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Safety Detour (Furiosa is not a fan of hospitals)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before returning to the Citadel, Max takes them on a detour to a post-apocalyptic hospital. Furiosa is not a fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original prompt:](http://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/450.html?thread=627650#cmt627650) I don't really care how the events of the movie happened or if they happen at all, except for the part where Furiosa is stabbed. Max brings her to the emergency room and then discovers together with the hospital staff that even half bled out and drugged up to the gills she is both willing and capable of fighting her way halfway to the exit. 
> 
> They manage to get enough drugs in her to knock her out, but it's now Max's job to babysit a very frightened, very panicky Furiosa until he can take her home

Furiosa is choking. She can feel something pressing around her mouth, hard round edges digging into her chin and her upper lip. She tries to raise her right hand, but she can't move it. It feels numb and heavy, refusing to respond to her commands. She tries to open her eyes to see what's wrong, but the light is too bright.

Her left arm is still there and she manages to reach up with the nub of her arm and push at the thing on her face. It's some kind of plastic cup with a tube attached. She pushed at it and finds that it won't come off. It's held in place somehow—yes, there's a band tied around her head holding it against her face. She pushes harder and manages to force the cup aside, freeing her mouth. She gasps for air, but somehow she can't seem to get a proper breath. Her chest is burning like she's been running for hours with a cramp and when she breathes her body makes a whistling, reedy sound.

She hears voices, a loud unfamiliar woman squawking at her from somewhere on her right. Furiosa keeps her eyes shut, pretending not to hear as the woman approaches. "Leave it!" she's saying. "Leave it!"

Furiosa waits until the woman reaches her bedside and she feels her hand fumbling with the edge of the cup. She cracks one eye open, seeing a large woman with a red face leaning over her. She's wearing a white mask over her mouth and that is what clinches it for Furiosa. The woman is a threat.

Furiosa punches upward with her stump and hits she woman across the face. She falls away with a shout and Furiosa drags herself to her feet. She finds out why her right hand wasn't working earlier—it's strapped to the bed frame with a strip of white gauze. She yanks at the fabric and tears her hand loose, making the pain in the side of her chest spike sharply. Did she break a rib? It feels even worse than the time she jumped from the War Rig at top speed and rolled onto the unforgiving dirt.

It's so bright here. The walls and the floor are white and hard, light glinting off of every surface and the shiny stainless steel tools piled on the shelves all around. Furiosa can barely keep her eyes open, squinting through the pain as she struggles to focus. Her left eye seems worse off than her right. It feels hot and swollen, like she has a black eye.

Furiosa can only see one door, and it's on the other side of the room in the direction the woman went. The woman is coming back now, approaching with her hands spread wide. She's saying something, but Furiosa can't hear what it is over the rush of blood in her ears.

Furiosa tries to take a step forward and stumbles. She feels dizzy and weak like she's been poisoned. Spots are showing on the edges of her vision, blotting out the world. If she faints, she knows she's lost. Once she's unconscious they can do anything they like to her. She's seen the things the Organic Mechanic does when War Boys make the mistake of passing out in his workshop.

She gasps for air, breathing as deeply as she can stand through the pain in her chest. The spots in her vision clear slightly, and Furiosa takes the opportunity to rush forward. She pushes past the woman in the white mask and out the open door. She falls almost immediately, her legs too weak to hold her, and lands half out of the threshold. The pain is so intense that she whites out for a moment before she can get to her knees and scramble forward.

There are more loud voices now, or maybe that's the sound of her pulse pounding. Her shoulder slams hard into a wall and she falls to the side, landing on her left elbow and reeling in pain.

"Back off, back off! Don't touch her!"

A hand grabs her shoulder and she flinches away, but then she hears a familiar voice, a low rumble that makes every word sound like a grunt. She forces open her good eye and sees the fool kneeling over her, his hands held up with palms out.

She reaches out to grab for him and manages to catch his collar. She uses his shoulder to pull herself up from the floor, dragging herself to her knees. "We have to—get out—" she says, gasping for air as she speaks in a harsh whisper.

"It's okay, it's me," the fool is saying, which irritates her. Of course, it's him. Now why isn't he helping her get up and out of here? "It's me, it's Max."

Apparently they're on a first name basis now. That's nice (it is actually, some part of her is deeply pleased he decided to tell her his name) but they really need to escape now. The wives—

The wives, yes, they were escaping, that's right. She hid them in the belly of the War Rig and drove them right out under Joe's nose. They were going to the Green Place—

She gasps in a different kind of pain as she remembers the Green Place, or what was left of it. It's like another blow to the chest, stealing her air and making her falter. Her fool Max catches her under her armpits to keep her from falling.

"We have to—the wives, Immortan, we have to get away before he—"

"He's dead," Max says. He cups her face in his hand, turning her so she's forced to look him in the eyes. "He's dead, Furiosa. You killed him. The others are all okay."

She blinks, the room spinning as she stares up at Max and wonders if this is real. She doesn't remember killing Joe. Is it really possible she did it? Are they finally safe?

Max is saying something, explaining more as he holds her face close to his own and supports her head on his shoulder. She blinks, which is a mistake since it's a struggle to get her eyes open again. Her body feels like it's shutting down, falling back into unconsciousness now that she knows Max is here to protect her. She shakes her head, using the pain it causes to force her eyes back open again.

"—safe place," Max says. "You were stabbed, twice. The second time was me, sorry. You couldn't breathe. Passed out. The Citadel was another night's drive, but I knew this place was here and I knew they could help—"

Furiosa shakes her head and tries to find a solid surface to help push herself up to her feet. Her hand scrabbles across the smooth cool wall, unable to get purchase. "No, we have to get out of here."

"No," Max says, his tone soothing like he's speaking to a child. "No, everything's going to be okay. We're in a safe place now—"

"I know where I am!" she says, the words garbled as she tries to shout.

Max raises his eyebrows like he finds that unlikely. "We're at a stronghold of the Order of the White Robe. They take in wanderers, take care of them—"

"It's a hospital," Furious spits. "People come here to die."

"You're not going to die," Max says, smiling like he fucking knows. "Everything is going to be okay."

"No, no." She shakes her head and tries to push away from him, but he holds her in place against his chest. She's too weak to do anything more than shake as he strokes the back of her head.

"Shhh, I know," he says. "These people are safe. I've been here before. They helped me. Let them help you."

"Why was my arm tied?" she asks. Her eyes are watering as a fresh wave of pain comes over her. It's so hard to breathe.

Max's thumb presses at the corner of her eye, wiping her tears away. "You kept pushing the oxygen mask off, so they restrained you. I'm sorry, I should have stayed in the room. Can I take you back now?"

She wants to say no, but her chest hurts and, fuck, she does need help breathing. After a moment, reluctantly, she nods.

Furiosa tenses as she hears the sound of footsteps behind them. She raises her head and sees more men and women in white masks crowded into the corridor behind Max. God, were they there the whole time? Max shifts and holds his hand out, stopping the closest masks from getting any closer. "No, I've got her."

Max keeps his arm around her back and slips the other under her knees. He stands slowly, moving carefully like he's in pain himself. He is, she remembers. He was injured too, wasn't he? He must be if they fought with Joe's war parties and escaped. But Max doesn't falter as he gets to his feet, cradling her against his warm chest.

Furiosa's eyes fall closed and she lets the movement of his body lull her into a stupor. After several steps, she feels Max lowering her down, the smooth sheets of the bed she was lying on before back under her legs.

An unfamiliar voice says something about it being better for her not to be upright, and then Max is laying her out flat on her back. She feels the cup on her face again, plastic and constricting, but when she reaches up to push it away, Max catches her hand and holds it. He's leaning over her, one hand holding the oxygen mask in place, while with the other he holds her wrist. She fumbles at him with her fingers, scratching at his chest until she gets a grip on his shirt.

It is easier to breathe with the mask on, loath though she is to admit it. Her breaths feel more fulfilling, like more air is getting into her lungs with each painful gasp.

"Everything is going to be okay now," Max says, his hand covering hers on his chest. "You're safe."

"Stay," she tries to say, but her voice is muffled by the mask over her face. Max seems to understand anyway and he nods as her eyes fall shut.

The last thing she hears and feels is his voice, the comforting rumbling of it vibrating against her hand. "I'll keep watch, don't worry. You're safe now, I'm here."


	2. Taking the Edge Off (awkward war rig orgy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-escape, Furiosa, Nux, and Max have an awkward orgy in the War Rig to work off some battlelust. Slight warning for Nux not realizing you should ask first before groping someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original prompt:](http://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/450.html?thread=612034#cmt612034) There's been a lot of speculation that homosexuality would be frowned on among the War Boys, but what if it's actually encouraged? War Boys who fight together are expected to bond through sex and they regularly have orgies to blow of steam after a battle. Furiosa is usually in the middle of it all as well, since it's better for squad morale to have the Imperators "pressing the flesh" with the men they command. 
> 
> Thus, after their initial escape from Joe's war party in the swamp, Nux crawls into the front seat to get in Furiosa's lap and work out some battlelust. Max is like "what the hell?", but the wives shrug it off. "Whatever, that's what soldiers do after a fight. Whataya gonna do?" Furiosa reaches over and tries to get Max to join in, naturally, not wanting a fellow warrior to be left out. Of course, they also can't stop while they get off, so this is all while driving the war rig through the night.

The salt marshes finally dry up after several hours of dangerous, slippery driving. The smell of rotten mud and brine begins to clear, replaced by the clean dirt scent of the desert. Furiosa shifts into a higher gear and picks up speed as the wheels of the rig begin to grind instead of squelch. 

Max stares out at the vast expanse of low rolling dunes. He drops into a doze occasionally and dreams of sand and pain before startling awake again to more of the same. 

He snaps awake from another shallow sleep to the sound of shouting, uncertain for a moment whether the noises are coming from the back of the cab or the inside of his head. 

“What are you _doing?_ " one of the women says, the blonde one with the creative profanity. “Ugh, knock it off!"

Max turns around to see what they're so upset about and sees the War Boy crouched down in the seat well at the women's feet. He's curled up on himself and breathing heavily. Max thinks he's injured for a moment—maybe bleeding out?— until he notices the War Boy's hand down between his legs and the movement of his arm as he pumps it up and down. 

“Ugh," Max says, adding his own voice to the women's chorus of disgust. 

“Nux," the redhead says, clucking like a disappointed mother. The War Boy finally stops jerking for long enough to raise his head and look around in confusion.

The redhead pulls on his elbow, making him take his hand out of his pants, and the War Boy whimpers unhappily. “But," he says. “We never—I woke up and I just—"

Furiosa sighs next to Max and rolls her eyes. “Come up here and stop bothering them," she says, irritation clear in her tone. 

The War Boy's eyes light up and he quickly crawls over the front seat to get between Max and Furiosa. Max pulls away as the War Boy's shoulders brush up against him. The War Boy shoves down his pants as soon as he's settled, revealing his cock straining up between his legs. Max pulls further away, pressing hard against the door as the War Boy licks his hand and starts stroking himself with a pleased sigh. 

Furiosa does something with her metal arm, flipping a switch somewhere to lock it in place on the wheel. Once that's done, she puts her right arm around the War Boy's middle, tugging him closer to her side. Max gives her a disbelieving look as she reaches around and puts her hand over the War Boy's own, helping guide his movements. “Ah, Imperator," he whimpers, pressing his face against her shoulder and squirming happily in her grasp. 

Furiosa notices Max's incredulous look and sighs. “It's battlelust," she says. “The War Boys usually… take care of each other after a fight. He'll be spent in a minute."

Sure enough, the War Boy is soon gibbering incoherently on the edge of orgasm. Furiosa works him through it with her usual efficiency. “There, go on, finish up."

The War Boy nods and licks his lips, obeying her command. She pulls her hand away as he begins to spill over his own hand and stomach. He sighs with pleasure as soon as he's done and nuzzles against Furiosa's armpit, happy and sated. 

The War Boy shifts around and holds his damp hand up to Furiosa, seemingly out of politeness, but she shakes her head. He turns towards Max next, but stops when he sees Max's grimace. The War Boy shrugs and laps up his climax himself, licking his palm and sucking his fingers clean. 

Once he's finished his snack, the War Boy sniffs and stretches, making himself comfortable against Furiosa's side. He stretches one leg out and tries to put it on Max's knee, but Max shoves it off with a snarl. 

“Button up, will you?" Max says, motioning down at the War Boy's lap. The Boy lifts his head off of Furiosa's shoulder and shrugs, reaching down to tug his pants back up over his hips and put his cock away. 

Max assumes that the War Boy will fall asleep now, but instead he keeps moving, squirming around like he's trying to get comfortable. After trying a few unsuccessful positions, he turns his back to Max and tucks himself closer to Furiosa's side, wrapping one arm around her waist. She shifts, putting her arm over his shoulder and patting his head. The War Boy falls quiet for a moment, but Max can still hear fabric rustling and the occasional sigh from Furiosa. 

Furiosa jerks suddenly and gasps in his arms, making Max startle. He sits up and sees that the War Boy has one of her belts unbuckled and a hand down the front of her pants. 

“Oh—not there," Furiosa says. Max grabs the War Boy's shoulders, ready to drag him off of her, but Furiosa's expression is more one of exasperation than panic as he fumbles between her legs. “What are you even…? No. No. Up— _higher._ "

The War Boy's face is creased in concentration, his eyes unfocused like he's trying to figure out an engine he's never seen before by touch alone. Max reaches down and grabs his wrist, dragging his hand out of Furiosa's pants. The War Boy makes a disappointed noise, but then perks up when Furiosa starts tugging at the wraps around her chest. She loosens the fabric and pulls it open to reveal her bare breasts. 

The War Boy immediately latches onto one of her nipples, sucking earnestly while he gropes her other breast with one hand. Furiosa lets out a soft moan, evidently enjoying the rough treatment. Max stays braced behind the War Boy, figuring he needs all the supervision he can get. 

The War Boy alternates sucking with licks, pulling back repeatedly to lap at Furiosa's nipples and squeeze them. He looks oddly frustrated, like he's expecting something more to happen than her nipples hardening and her breathing growing faster. 

Furiosa shakes her head at his frustration and laughs breathily. “Sorry to disappoint. I've never been a mother." 

“Oh," the War Boy says, frowning down at his hands cupping her breasts. Max can only stare, wondering what the hell is wrong with these people. 

The War Boy apparently decides he's had enough of Furiosa's chest, and starts tugging on her waistband and trying to get her pants further down. The clasp of Furiosa's lower belt takes him several moments, but after some fumbling he manages to get the skull medallion unhooked and out of the way. Furiosa lifts her hips, helping him get her pants down to her thighs and revealing the dark triangle of hair between her legs. 

The War Boy reaches down to grope her immediately, and Furiosa grunts in annoyance. 

“Slow down," Max says, swatting at his shoulder. “Light touches first."

The War Boy nods distractedly and slides one finger down to stroke between Furiosa's lips and back up again. He tries this a few times, managing to get a soft noise out of her. He smiles at that, getting bolder and pushing his hand further down between her legs.

“Hey," Furisoa says, snarling as she elbows him in the stomach. “ _Don't_ put your dirty fingers in there—ugh." 

The War Boy looks at her in confusion, clearly having no idea what he's supposed to do if he's not sticking something inside of her. He tentatively retreats to touch her lower stomach and ruffle his fingers through her pubic hair. 

“Better," Furiosa says, clearly still irritated.

“Okay," Max says, moving further over to get between the War Boy and the wheel so he can see what he's doing. “Go a little lower now— _gently_." 

“Hm," Furiosa says. “No, too low. Nope." She sighs in frustration as the War Boy completely fails to find her clit. “Not even close."

“Open her up!" one of the women says, and Max turns to see that the short-haired one is leaning over the seat behind him. She holds up her hand with two fingers raised in a V, opening and closing her fingers obscenely. 

“Eh?" the War Boy asks, looking up in confusion. Furiosa winces as he does something uncomfortable to her. 

“Okay, that's enough," Max says. He grabs the War Boy by the shoulders and drags him back. 

“No, wait!" the War Boy says, clearly deeply disappointed as Max shoves him away and switches places with him. 

“Nuh uh," Max says. “You're done." 

Furiosa lifts her arm and makes room as Max turns on his side and lowers his head down so he's lying in her lap facing her stomach. He glances up at her and she nods, opening her legs as far as she's able with her pants still caught around her thighs. He smiles and runs his free hand up over her stomach, stroking her hip and inner thigh before sliding his fingers down to lightly spread open her lips. She's not even slick yet—the War Boy's touch was clearly more frustrating than anything else. 

It's too dark to see properly, but her clit is swollen and hot under Max's thumb. He pulls his hand back to lick his fingers and then draws a slow circle around her clit, testing to see where she's most sensitive. Furiosa sighs approvingly and tilts her head back, revealing her throat as Max continues circling his fingers. 

“This one knows what he's doing," the short-haired woman says, nodding from behind Furiosa's shoulder as she leans over the seat. Max ignores her and the approving noises from the other women in the back seat. 

Max waits until Furiosa's good and wet, her juices slicking his fingers and her face and throat flushed as she moans above him. “Hey," he says softly, drawing her eyes away from the road and down to look at him. He leans forward, brushing his mouth against her in a silent question. She nods quickly and gasps as his tongue darts out to taste her.

Max doesn't tease. He figures she's had enough of teasing. He flattens his tongue and presses it hard up against her clit, pulsing it in a slick rhythm. Furiosa gasps and her hips twitch upward, a low whine escaping her throat. She tastes like salt and dust, like what he imagines the road itself might taste like. His own arousal spikes at her obvious pleasure, and he reaches down with his free hand to squeeze himself and take the edge off, not wanting the distraction. 

“Like that, like that," Furiosa says, gritting her teeth. Her fingers tighten in his hair, pushing his mouth hard up against her as she comes closer to the edge. It makes Max wish there was room for her to straddle his face instead. He'd love to have her surging on top of him, pressing down to take her pleasure forcibly. 

He feels her stomach twitching as she finally crests and comes with a loud exhale. Max stays on her, keeping up the movement of his tongue and working her through a second climax on the heels of the first. She whimpers like she's surprised, her thighs and stomach straining under Max's hands. 

Once her trembling stops, he backs off slightly to give her time to recover. He rubs his nose against the seam of her inner thigh while her hand ruffles his hair. 

“Mh?" he asks, looking up at her as he flicks his tongue lightly against her clit. But she shakes her head and tugs on his hair, pulling him back out of her lap. 

Max sits up and stretches, getting the kinks out of his neck as he turns to settle with his back against her shoulder. Furiosa slips her arm around his waist, sighing softly as he gets comfortable. The War Boy is still in the passenger seat next to him and he raises his eyebrows suggestively when Max glances over. 

“What?" Max says, wiping his mouth on the end of one sleeve. 

The War Boy smiles and reaches forward to put his hand on Max's crotch, palming his erection through his pants. Max shudders and the War Boy evidently takes that as permission, his hands leaping to Max's belt to unbuckle it. 

“Uh?" Max says, slightly concerned as the War Boy unzips his pants and tugs his cock out. His hand is rough, calluses catching on sensitive skin as he gives Max a single stroke. Max grunts and the War Boy grins widely at him before dropping his head down to suck his cock into his mouth. 

“Ah!" Max says, startled by the intense pressure and heat. The War Boy is sucking him the same way he was handling Furiosa's breasts earlier, pulling determinedly like his focus is on the end goal and only incidentally on Max's pleasure.

Furiosa laughs and tightens her arm around Max's waist, steadying him. “Let him. They think they can gain some of a warrior's power by drinking their... essence."

“Ah," Max says, raising one knee to brace his foot on the seat. The War Boy is starting up a rhythm now, bobbing his head while still keeping up that intense suction. It's wet and messy and Max is on edge in no time. He tilts his head back against Furiosa's shoulder, his lips drawing back from his teeth as he gets close. He feels her chuckle, her chest moving against his back, and her hand slides up to pinch his left nipple through his shirt. That does it. He's coming with an almost painful clench of his stomach, the War Boy milking him for all he's worth. 

When he's done, the War Boy sits up with a deeply self-satisfied expression and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Max sighs and shifts around, tucking himself away and zipping his pants back up. 

There are soft noises coming from the back seat, and when Max turns his head he sees three of the women wrapped around one another, a tangle of white cloth and soft hair. The short-haired one smirks at him, her hands between her legs as she watches the others. 

Max turns away and shakes his head. Furiosa's hand is still on his chest, rubbing distractedly as she watches the road. The War Boy curls up on Max's other side, resting his head on his arm and closing his eyes. Max sighs and tries to get comfortable himself, shifting his leg until he finds a position that won't bother his bad knee. He blinks heavily as he looks out the windscreen at the rolling endless desert.

“Sleep," Furiosa says, her mouth moving against his temple. “It's okay." 

“Mh," Max says and closes his eyes. “Wake me if you need to switch."

He feels her nod and lets himself slip down into unconsciousness, anchored by the weight of the War Boy heavy against his side and her arm tight around his waist.


	3. Darker Mirrors (Furiosa/Max, genderswap, rape)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark fic, genderswap with male!Furiosa and female!Max. Warning for noncon/rape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original prompt:](http://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/1321.html?thread=569129#cmt569129) Considering how treasured universal donors would be post apocalypse, I don't think the idea of breeding them in the hope to create offspring with the same blood type, would be beyond Immortan Joe. 
> 
> So give me a situation where Fem!Max is treated akin to the 'Wives' maybe even has contact with them prior to the escape, maybe this is what triggers Splendid to push for fleeing. I don't care who the male participant is but if it is non-con, not con-con with malicious and hateful intent [but] more unrelenting due to Joes orders.

"Furious, the Organic Mechanic is looking for you."

Furious suppresses a grimace. He already knows what Organic wants and has been avoiding his workshop. A war party brought in a feral yesterday; an O-negative woman with signs she’s been pregnant before. Joe will want to try to breed more universal donors before making her a wife. Furious is A-negative, but his mother was a universal donor, making him one of the Organic Mechanic's favorite studs. 

Furious knows there’s no point in stalling. Better to get it over with quickly. He goes down to the organic workshop, grimacing at the smell of vomit, blood, and shit. 

The Organic Mechanic has the feral chained up in a corner with a metal collar around her neck and a muzzle over her face. The collar is connected to a chain that’s tied over her head and pulled taunt, nearly choking her so she's forced to stand up on her toes to breathe. She’s already been stripped bare, her hands tied behind her back, and her legs shackled. Each of her ankles is chained to a separate iron ring several feet apart so her legs are held open, making it clear why she’s here. 

Furious finds out why she’s so tightly restrained as soon as he unclips the chain around her neck. The feral rears back once she’s free and tries to headbutt him with the back of her skull. Furious narrowly avoids being hit square in the face with the back of the muzzle. 

"Stop it," he says, pushing her forward to pin her against the wall. She snaps her teeth at him in response and lets out a strangled yell. Furious keeps her pinned, holding her in place while she screams out her anger. He should have put his metal arm on. He can barely contain her with only one hand and the stump of his left arm. “Calm down. Can you tell me your name?”

“Fuck you,” she says, spitting out the words and trying to headbutt him again. 

“Fair enough,” he says. He doubts he’d want to give his own name if he was in her place. “But try to calm down. You’re only going to hurt yourself.” 

He doesn't say he isn't going to hurt her because that wouldn’t be true. It makes him feel sick, breeding this way. It's not how his mother taught him. The Many Mothers believed that a woman should select men herself and go to them eagerly to ensure a healthy child. This way produces damaged women and sickly babies. 

"Careful," the Organic Mechanic says, looking up from where he’s examining a sick War Boy. "She's not broken in yet. She already bloodied Slit's nose this morning." 

The Organic Mechanic comes over and reaches for the chain around her neck, but Furious takes it from him before he can reattach it to the bar above. 

"I've got her," Furious says. He wraps the chain around his left elbow, clipping it in place around his arm, and then puts his hand around the woman's neck. He presses up under her chin and rests his fingers around the edges of the collar. He squeezes her throat, not enough to hurt her, but enough for her to understand the threat. 

The feral is still now, but he can feel the nervous tension in her body and hear it in her quaking gasps for air. "Breathe easy," he says, muttering into her ear. "I'm not going to choke you, but you have to be still for me."

She hisses in response and starts struggling again. He has a good grip on her now and her legs and arms jerk uselessly against her bonds. Furious waits, letting her tire herself out until she's limp and panting again. "Easy now," he says. “There you go."

"Are you going to breed her or put her to sleep?" The Organic Mechanic asks, laughing as he opens one of the cages hanging from the ceiling. The blood bag inside falls out and hangs upside down, limbs limp as a carcass. 

Furious ignores him. He runs his hand down between the the feral's legs, moving slowly so she knows to expect it. She's slick with other War Boy's leavings and she winces at the soft pressure of his fingers. 

"Sorry," he mutters, shifting to hold one of her thighs up as he steps between her legs. The feral starts struggling again, but she's too exhausted to do much more than wriggle as Furious lets go of her leg to fumble with the front of his pants. 

The difficult part is getting hard, but he knows it'll be easier for her if he's faster. His distaste for the act is nothing compared to her own humiliation. He doesn't tell her not to fight him because he knows from talking to the wives that sometimes fighting is the only thing that keeps them sane. He thinks this feral might be the type who prefers to know she fought as hard as she could and never made it easy.

Furious keeps his hand around her neck as he gets his cock against her opening and pushes inside of her. He's only half hard still, but a few twists of his hips take care of that. He can feel her throat working against his palm, swallowing and gasping for air as he moves inside of her. 

He makes short work of it, screwing his eyes shut at the end and trying to pretend he's back in his room lying with a willing partner--some War Boy eager to absorb the essence of his strength, or a fantasy amalgam of all the wives, soft and free in his arms. 

The feral whimpers at first, but goes slack at the end. Her head rolls back on his shoulder and his eyes grow unfocused, traveling somewhere far away from him and the horror of what he’s doing. He hears her mumbling something after he pulls out and stands panting behind her. "--sorry, 'm sorry, Jess--Jessie, I'm sorry."

Furious checks her pulse and finds it weak and unsteady. He turns her in his arms, pulling on the chain around her neck and sees that her eyes are rolling back in her head. Her feet give out as soon as she's no longer held up by his body and she nearly slides to the ground before he catches her. "Woman?” he asks, patting her cheek. “Wake up, are you with me?"

"Eh, that's all right," the Organic Mechanic says. "Let her sleep. She'll breed easier that way."

Furious ignores him, searching around for the ends of the chains that are holding her feet apart. He finds the bolts holding her shackles in place and releases them, letting her feet dangle free. 

Furious get his left arm under the feral's knees and lifts her up into his arms. As he stands he sees that there's blood on the floor. "She's bleeding," he says. 

The Organic Mechanic sighs and searches his shelves until he finds a jar of clear salve. He grumbles about soft touches telling him how to do his job, but he checks between her legs and applies some of it to the wound. "Just a shallow tear."

"I'm taking her to the Vault."

"Not yet,” Organic says, turning to put the salve away. “I’ve got two more coming by later for her!"

Furious raises his eyebrows. "Should I go tell Joe you're damaging one of his future wives?"

The Organic Mechanic sighs and rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine. I suppose that's enough for now. I want to wait and see if she bleeds in a few weeks anyway. Tell the wives I'll be up tomorrow for their monthlies and to examine her." 

Furious hefts the feral up over his shoulders and begins climbing the stairs to the central tower. He can feel her breath against his skin where the cage of her muzzle rests on his back, so he senses the moment her breathing changes. 

He feels her whole body tense as he steps onto the landing at the top of the stairs, but before he can say anything or get a better grip on her, she knees him in the jaw. He loses his grip and she drops to the ground, landing hard on her face since her hands are still tied behind her back. Furious scrambles to grab her, realizing he miscalculated by leaving her ankles unchained. 

She kicks at him, aiming for his balls and getting his lower stomach instead. It's enough to knock the breath out of him but not to disable him. He falls forward, throwing his heavier weight on top of her and using it to pin her down while she flails. 

"Stop," he says, barely managing to restrain her hands as she tries to elbow him in the kidneys. "Stop! I'm taking you somewhere safe." She spits through her muzzle at that and lets out a wild, angry shout. 

"If you keep fighting you'll attract more War Boys," he says. Several pups are already watching with interest, standing below them on the stairs as he struggles to contain her. "Do you want to get dragged back to Organic to be 'broken in' further?"

She goes limp at that, finally, coughing and letting out painful gasps that sound like sobs. He drags her up to her feet and makes her walk ahead of him the rest of the way to the Vault. She's limping badly, seemingly barely able to support her weight on her left leg. 

"Are you injured?" he asks, slowing down as she stumbles over a threshold. 

She sniffs and spits, aiming for the ground this time instead of his face. "Bad knee," she says, the words a near growl. "Fucker took my brace along with all my clothes." 

"Ah, sorry about that,” Furious says, daring to take her left arm to support her. She huffs in anger, but lets him help her for the remaining few steps. 

It's unorthodox for Furious to enter the Vault alone, but as an Imperator he's one of the few trusted with the combination. When he pushed aside the heavy door, he finds the wives arranged in a row in their makeshift classroom, Miss Giddy writing something on the chalkboard. Angharad gets to her feet first. "My god."

"Water," Furious says, holding the feral out as Capable and Toast run up to him. They both put an arm around her, supporting her between them. The feral tries to jerk away from them at first, her head turning wildly in confusion, but her flailing is nothing like her crazed anger from earlier. She knows the other women aren't a threat to her in the same way Furious was. After a token struggle, she lets herself be soothed by their touch and gentle words. 

Miss Giddy leads Capable and Toast into the wives' shared dorm, speaking softly to the feral as she directs them inside. Cheedo runs in after them with a cup of water in her hand and Furious he can hear the three of them speaking softly as they arrange her as comfortably as possible on one of the beds. 

"Careful with her," Furious says, turning to Angharad. "She wasn't fully lucid earlier. I'm not sure she knows where she is." 

The Dag snorts. "I'm not sure finding out will make her feel any better."

"Clean her up, will you?" Furious says, turning away from them. "She was bleeding."

"We know how to take care of a fellow wife," Angharad says. Furious looks back over his shoulder and she fixes him with a steely look that suggests she knows he was one of the men that hurt her. 

"I know," Furious says. “I meant to do what I can’t.” 

"Where are you going?" The Dag asks. "Don't you want to stick around and see if she recovers?" 

"She will," Furious says. She's a fighter, that much is clear. "I need to go back to see Organic. He took her leg brace away earlier. She's going to need it if she's coming with us on the run to Gastown."

Angharad nods approvingly at that and Furious pushes the Vault door closed, sealing the wives inside. All of Joe's treasures safe and sound. 

For now.


	4. Serviceable (Angharad/Max & Furiosa, pregnant sex, voyeurism)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angharad/Max pregnant sex with Furiosa facilitating and keeping an eye on things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Prompt](http://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/1730.html?thread=1349826#cmt1349826): Pregnancy hormones can do pretty wild things to people.   
>  (I don't know, I just have a mighty need.)
> 
> +++ Max is concerned about the state of the sprog in her.

"Can I talk to you?"

Max looks up, surprised to see Furiosa approaching him. Earlier, she and Angharad had climbed into the cab of the war rig and he assumed they were...busy. Max tucks the scrap of cloth with his map back into one of the pockets on his newly-acquired vest and stands to face her. She's wrapped in one of the long blankets of the Vuvalini, completely covered from her neck down to her knees by the worn patterned fabric.

"I need to ask you something."

Max hums in response, waiting for her question, but instead she turns away and walks back toward the war rig. He follows her as she walks around the front to the quieter side away from where the others are camped.

She leads him to the passenger side door and pauses there, facing away from him. He doesn't prompt her again, waiting for her to break the silence herself.

"She needs something I can't give her," Furiosa says finally, turning back to look at him.

Max quirks his eyebrows up, feeling out of his depths. He doesn't fully understand Furiosa's relationship with Angharad. There's a tension between them, disagreement about how best to make their escape, but Furiosa often seems to defer to the other woman, accepting her arbitrary rules about what violence is acceptable and when.

Furiosa seems to take his lack of response as a question and tilts her head, watching him closely as she says. "She wants a male touch and I don't want it to be the war boy."

Max's eyebrows shoot up higher at that. It's not exactly flattering, having apparently been selected through limited process of elimination rather than any particular interest Angharad has in him. Although maybe that's just Furiosa's way of keeping him from thinking this is anything but a transaction of necessity.

Max nods, not letting himself consider it longer than necessary, but Furiosa stays where she is, blocking him off from the door with her body. "Okay," Max says, nodding again.

"Good." Furiosa turns and pulls herself up onto the high running board of the war rig, opening the passenger door. Max starts to follow her, but she holds out her palm. "Wait."

She pulls the door behind her, not closing it all the way so Max can hear the indistinct murmur of her voice inside. Angharad says something in response to her, but Max can't make out the words.

He's struck by the urge to leave, nervous suddenly and unsure of what he's really agreed to. He could walk back around the rig and continue working on his map alone, pretending none of this ever happened. Leave the two women to their own devices.

But he doesn't leave, crossing his arms and standing awkwardly as he waits. He feels a strange debt to both of them--Furiosa for not killing him at the first opportunity once they escaped their pursuers, and Angharad for her ferocious daring, shielding them with her own body and swinging out unafraid to cut the chains of the harpoon that nearly tore Max's thumb clean off. She'd risked her life repeatedly for him as well as everyone else. She'd almost been knocked off the rig at one point, saved only by the luck of the door holding long enough for Capable to pull her back inside the cab.

Max is wondering if Angharad has changed her mind when Furiosa pushes the door open and sticks her head out. "Come on," she says, holding the door open and waiting as he scrambles up onto the running board.

Furiosa climbs across the cab and up to the front as Max pulls himself inside. Angharad is lying across the back seats with her white fabric draped loose over top of her like a sheet. She has her hands up, covering her face, and Max thinks she's embarrassed at first, but when she lowers her hands her expression is fierce and demanding. "Well?" she asks.

"Ah," Max clears his throat and kneels down on the floor of the cab next to her. His bad knee twinges and his awkwardness comes back, making him feel strange and out of place under her gaze. He looks down at his hands on the cracked leather of the seats, unable to keep meeting her eyes. He's not sure he can even remember the last time he was with a woman—most of his days blend together in an unrelenting haze of events that are hard to distinguish from his nightmares. He's on the verge of suggesting that this was a mistake, that he should go, when Furiosa scoffs behind him.

He glances over his shoulder to see her looking at him with impatience. "Kiss her," she says, motioning with one corner of her blanket.

Max clears his throat again and turns back to Angharad, who has her hands extended out, reaching for him. He pushes his vest off of his shoulders and discards it on the floor as he crawls up to meet her. She grasps the collar of his thin shirt as soon as he's in range and drags him closer. He moves to crouch above her, careful of her belly as he rests his hands on either side of her head. They come together slowly, like two animals meeting for the first time and smelling one another, uncertain until the last moment when their lips meet.

Angharad makes a hungry noise and drags Max closer, sucking and biting at his lips. His wounded hand aches where he's holding himself up, but he doesn't want to risk putting any of his own weight on top of her. She gasps for air and he kisses her chin and her cheek, moving up to mouth over the scars on the side of her face, white lines that only accent the clean beauty of her face.

Her hands are desperate, pulling at his shirt and scratching over his shoulders. She seems to want him on top of her, covering her. Max rests one knee on the seat and then climbs up, swinging over her legs so he's straddling her. She's yanking hard at his shirt, trying to pull it up over his head and getting stuck with it bunched up around his armpits. He leans back so he can pull it off for her. He drops down, her eager hands running over his bare back, and then remembers his tattoo. Furiosa will be able to see it from where she is in the front seat, maybe even read some of the upside down text in the dark. He feels vulnerable for a moment, hunching forward, but then Angharad pushes aside the white cloth covering her like she senses his fear, tearing it away to leave her naked underneath him.

She's lovely—all smooth skin and swollen round flesh. He dips his head to lick her collarbone and kiss the swell of her breasts, nosing between her cleavage. She sighs deeply as he kisses the tips of her breasts so he stays there a while, licking and sucking while she tangles her fingers in his hair. She's leaking slightly, the rich taste bringing back memories as he sucks one of her nipples. He and Jessie had spent what felt like half of her third trimester in bed together. She'd been aching constantly, unsatisfied until he found just the right position or touch to bring her off.

"Enough, enough," Angharad says, breaking Max from his reverie. She hits his shoulders with her fists a few times, not enough to hurt, just to express her frustration. "I've had my fill of teasing."

Max grunts in response, his growing erection getting harder to ignore. He sits back on his haunches and considers their options as he unbuttons his pants. The narrow seat makes spooning impossible, and he's afraid if he stays on top of her he'll end up putting too much weight on her swollen stomach.

"Maybe you should…?" he waves his hand, motioning towards himself, hoping it's enough to suggest that she sit up and get on top of him.

Angharad shakes her head and shifts around, pulling her legs out from underneath him and urging him closer as she bends her knees toward her belly. "No, like this," she says. He takes her hips, lifting her up and helping her slide further up his thighs and get her legs wrapped around his waist. He runs his hands over her and strokes her sides and up over the swell of her stomach. The line of hair leading down from her navel is dark and inviting, and he traces it down to the curls between her legs. He lets his fingers continue downward to the soft skin of her cunt, parting her lips and finding her incredibly slick and wet.

She moans at his touch and pulls her knees up, spreading her legs as he slips one finger inside of her. She's so open, it's easy to get a second and third finger inside, cocking his fingers and finding the right angle that makes her gasp out loud. He runs his thumb up to circle her clit, slick from her own juices.

"Guh, come on, will you just _fuck me_ already," Angharad says. "Stop playing around."

Max almost laughs as she kicks at him, pushing impatiently at his sides with her feet. He hears a soft sound behind him and glances back to see Furiosa watching with evident amusement. The blanket has fallen off of her shoulders revealing that she's topless underneath, her hand idly tweaking one of her nipples as she watches them. She raises an eyebrow at him and nods toward Angharad, who's huffing with impatience now.

Max turns back to Angharad and sees that she's glaring at Furiosa, seemingly annoyed with both of them. He lets them have their moment, shifting to make room to push down the front of his pants. He's already fully hard but he strokes himself anyway as he pulls his cock out. Looking down at Angharad spread in front of him, he takes a moment to wonder if this is really happening.

Angharad hits him in the back with her heel, confirming her own reality and urging him on like a reluctant horse. She's staring down at his cock, sitting up on her elbows and watching eagerly as he moves closer to her.

"Hm?" he says, getting her attention and leaning down to kiss her again. She opens her mouth to him and licks at his lower lip as he grinds their bodies together, slipping through the slick warmth of her folds.

He could probably rub off against her and be perfectly satisfied, but that isn't what she wants and she pulls hard on his hair to remind him. Max shifts up onto one hand and reaches down to position his cock against her entrance, sinking into her easily in a slow smooth glide.

Angharad whimpers with what might be pain and he stops, holding still while he watches her reaction. Her legs are tighten around him, pulling higher to wrap around his waist and squeeze his ribs. She nods at him and he ducks down to kiss her as he starts to roll his hips. He moves in slow shallow thrusts, watching her face closely. Her mouth drops open and her breathing picks up as he finds a gentle rhythm.

He can't get very deep like this, careful of her belly as he leans over her. She keeps hitching her legs up higher like she wants to feel more of him, getting more vocal and moving to meet him. His knee is starting to ache as well and he realizes he needs to change the angle or risk hurting himself.

He stops his motions and pulls out, eliciting a gasp of frustration from Angharad. "Here," he says, tugging on one of her hips. "Turn around—mh, there." She crawls over onto her hands and knees with his help and sits back against him, reaching between her legs to guide his cock back inside her body. He can sit back further like this, taking some of the strain off his knees and making it easier to thrust as well.

Angharad's shaking a little, her thighs quaking as she holds herself up, and Max takes it to mean she's too exhausted to ride him. He fucks up into her while she supports herself with her hands braced on the seat, bent over with her long hair hanging down like a veil. The position makes it easy for Max to slide his hand down from her hip and find her clit, just above where they're joined together. He keeps his fingers pressed there, letting the motion of their bodies do the work as he thrusts inside her.

Angharad's body grows tighter and tighter, muscles locking up as she gets closer to the edge. Max keeps moving, not wanting to break the rhythm before she finds her release. She tosses her head back when she finally comes, her eyes screwing closed and her lips pulling back in a silent mask of pleasure.

When she's done, she leans forward on her forearms and catches her breath while he finishes behind her. Max's hands wander over her sides and down to hold her forearms as he braces himself on top of her. His orgasm feels ripped from him, so intense it momentarily leaves him muddled and a little confused.

He stays leaning over her, not able to sit up just yet. He can't see her face, her hair still obscuring her expression, and it makes him feel anxious, wondering how she's feeling. "Hmm?" he asks.

"Yes," Angharad says, nodding and brushing her hair back. She disentangles their legs, his cock slipping out as she turns over and lies on her side. "Good—that was good."

Max nods, feeling slightly better as he moves to sit next to her on the edge of the seat. He pulls his pants back up and tuck himself away, finding his shirt lying on the floor at his feet along with Angharad's white cloth. He pulls his shirt back on and then picks up the fabric, balling it up into a pillow to tuck under her head.

There's a creak from the front of the cab and Furiosa leans over the seat to hold out the blanket she had around her shoulders earlier. Max takes it and lays it over Angharad, tucking the ends around her. She sighs softly and settles down as Max strokes her hair, amazed at how soft and silky it feels.

"Let her sleep," Furiosa says softly as Angharad's eyes fall shut. She nods for him to join her in the front of the war rig and Max crawls up to sit next to her.

Furiosa is dressed again, her legs pulled up to her chest as she peers out the window. Max stretches out and tries to make himself comfortable. He tilts his head back and yawns. He feels wrung out and sore, but he thinks he might be able to get some real sleep tonight, especially with Furiosa next to him.

"Get some rest," she says, and Max nods. He closes his eyes and listens to the two of them breathing as he drifts off. He only starts awake a few times before he's able to fall into the deeper dreamless sleep of the well and truly exhausted.


	5. “I got you a present" (Max and Furiosa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt meme: [lurkinghistoric: Max and Furiosa, #26, “I got you a present.”](http://cygnaut.tumblr.com/post/142270985441/pairingnumber-ask-max-and-furiosa-26)

“I got you a present.” **  
**

“Hm?” Furiosa says, glancing at Max from her corner of the watch post. They’re not on an official watch, only keeping an eye on the empty wasteland while they wait for sunset. It seems odd that he would bring up a gift now instead of when he first arrived at the Citadel four days ago. “You did?”

Max nods and starts searching his pockets, presumably for said present. He’s wearing his tactical vest, so it takes him a while to find what he’s looking for. He opens various pockets and unearths several scraps of cloth, a spent shotgun shell, three handgun mags of various sizes, and a broken belt buckle. None of these items are apparently the present, although he hands them to Furiosa to hold while he continues searching.  

“Ah,” Max says, finally finding what he was looking for inside a hole in the inner lining of his vest. He tips it carefully into his palm and holds it out to Furiosa, who hands him back the other items so she can take it.

It’s a tiny piece of white bone, as delicate as irradiated paper in her hand. She keeps her touch light, not wanting to damage any of the thin spurs and whorls of calcium. She turns it over a few times before recognizing it as the skull of a tiny animal. One end bulges into the cranium while the other narrows into the snout. The teeth on the underside of the jaw are flat and square except for two protruding front incisors. It’s the kind of skull that the Many Mothers would turn into charms for clothing or the ends of their hair; not that Max would know that. 

“It’s a hopper,” Max explains. “Mouse.”

Furiosa nods. She’s seen mice before. During her childhood they scurried through the fields of the Green Place and sometimes she saw their faint tracks left in the desert at sunrise.

Max shuffles in place, moving with the nervous agitation that means he has something more to say. His forehead creases as he searches for the right words, the same expression he had a moment ago fumbling through his pockets. Furiosa turns her attention back to the empty wasteland spread out in front of them while he sorts it out.

“It’s recent,” Max says eventually. “Found it within sight of the towers.”

“Oh?”

“Fresh.”

“Oh.” That’s a surprise. The plains around the Citadel have been picked clean for as long as Furiosa has known them, yet this tiny mouse found it’s way here, and perhaps something bigger found the mouse to eat. Furiosa turns it over in her palm one more time and then tucks it into the front of her shirt.

“Thank you.”

Max nods, his expression easing once he knows he’s understood.


End file.
